


Dream Me the World

by JennaTalbot



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, I wrote something mostly happy for once, M/M, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 05:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15041750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaTalbot/pseuds/JennaTalbot
Summary: Five times Ronan dreamed something for Gansey, and one time he didn’t. (Set sometime after the ‘dream me the world’ speech in TDT)





	Dream Me the World

1.

Ronan and Gansey were sitting in Monmouth, Gansey working on his English homework while Ronan wasn’t even bothering to pretend to be doing anything productive. Instead, he had been tearing the pages out of one of Gansey’s old notebooks and throwing paper balls at increasingly more difficult targets. Gansey was just thankful that none of the targets had been him yet.

After a few hours of Gansey being productive and Ronan being distracting, Gansey had thrown his pen in the direction of the trashcan in frustration and got up to root around his desk for another.

Ronan snickered. “Another one, really?”

“Yes,” Gansey muttered as he pulled out another drawer, finally locating a new pen. He really should buy more next time he went out. He padded back over to his spot next to Ronan and settled down, picking up his workbook again. But to his dismay, pressing the pen to the page did nothing. This one was dead as well.

Gansey huffed and stared off into the distance for a moment before pushing back up and over to his desk to resume the search. He felt Ronan’s eyes on his back, but he wasn’t in the mood for whatever joke he had to offer, so Gansey used all of his will to steadfastly ignore him.

Instead, he pulled out every drawer and rifled through them until he found another pen in the last bottom drawer. He heaved a sigh and returned to his spot on the floor, already deciding that if this pen didn’t work he was going to give up and possibly throw his homework out of the window. He knew Ronan would get a kick out of that.

When Gansey pressed the pen to the paper and a thin black line followed, he considered celebrating, although he supposed the real celebration would be finishing this homework so they could go explore Cabeswater the following day, which Adam and Blue both miraculously had off of work.

He turned back to his assignment, knowing that he was close to being done, but that didn’t help his motivation much. He just wanted to be done now; Gansey had better things to do than his Aglionby homework, even if English was the last subject he needed to finish.

“Here,” Ronan held out a closed hand, clearly offering whatever was inside his fist to Gansey.

Gansey raised an eyebrow, but held out his hand for whatever Ronan wanted to give him. A pen landed in his palm, and Gansey looked up, disbelieving.

“You watched me dig through that desk, not once, but _twice_ , and you’re just giving this to me now?”

He had expected a smirk and a joke, but Ronan just shrugged. If Gansey didn’t know any better, he would say that Ronan looked… uncertain.

After waiting a moment for Ronan to say something else, Gansey sighed and set the pen down next to him. At the rate he was going, and with the questionable reliability of the one he found in the back of the bottom drawer of his desk, Gansey was sure it would be useful at some point in the near future.

“I dreamed it,” Ronan said in a low voice, and Gansey looked up sharply. Ronan’s face was curiously blank, as if he wasn’t sure which emotion he should show and as a result chose none. “It won’t ever run out of ink. Because it doesn’t really have ink in it. But it’s black and it writes.”

“How did you know I was going to need this?” Gansey asked. Ronan was clearly awake right now, and although Gansey knew he had a habit of going through pens quickly, there really was no reason for Ronan, who had been sitting next to him for hours, to have it on him right now.

He shrugged again, this time with a hint of a smirk. “I had a feeling.”

Gansey chuckled at how cryptic and _Ronan_ that statement was. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, and Ronan just nodded, that brief look of uncertainty flitting across his features before it vanished. Turning his attention back to his notebook, Gansey picked up Ronan’s pen and began to write.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ronan’s lips turn up into a genuine smile.

 

2.

It had been hours now, and Gansey still couldn’t get the sound of wings out of his head, or the slight buzzing that made his heart freeze while his stomach dropped.

All things considered, it hadn’t even been that bad. Either Ronan or Noah had left a window open in Monmouth, and when Gansey got back from his turn at attempting grocery shopping, the wasp was sitting on the wall. It looked so unassuming, but the mere sight of those black and yellow stripes set off every alarm in Gansey’s head.

After clearing his throat twice, Gansey had yelled for Ronan, but was met with silence. So he resorted to calling Ronan’s phone: three times in a row, their signal that something was wrong and Ronan should actually answer the call. It was one of the better ideas he had made Ronan promise to, and he had promised not to abuse it in return. Gansey didn’t take his eyes off of the tiny harbinger of death currently occupying his residence the entire time the line rang. If the ice in his veins was anything to go by, this was not an abuse of his newfound ability to contact Ronan.

Thankfully, Ronan had answered on Gansey’s third attempt and less than five minutes later, strode through the front door of Monmouth like a miniature whirlwind, killing the wasp and dumping it outside. Gansey was sure Ronan had been more than five minutes away, but was too thankful to question it.

That had been hours ago, and Gansey’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking.

It was easier to ignore when it was still light out, but Gansey had been counting on getting at least some sleep that night, sleep he had no doubt would elude him now. Insects didn’t find their way into Monmouth frequently, but it certainly wasn’t the first time this had happened, and Gansey was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Monmouth was an old factory after all, there were plenty of nooks and crannies, despite Gansey and Ronan’s best attempts at fixing the place up. But no matter how many times it happened, it never got easier, and always left Gansey with a sense of unease that he _hated_.

Monmouth was his home, the one place in the world that was well and truly _Gansey_. And he didn’t like feeling uncomfortable in it. At the risk of sounding like a petulant child, he would even go so far as to say it was unfair.

With a sigh, he decided he couldn’t put it off any longer, and he padded to the bathroom to take out his contacts and brush his teeth. To his surprise, sitting on the edge of the sink was an Epipen. Gansey knew his was in the Pig, and he knew Ronan didn’t have any allergies, and Noah—well it was safe to say Noah didn’t either.  

He made a mental note to ask Ronan in the morning, finishing up and heading back to his bed. It was long past dark, and as he groped around for his phone charger, his fingers closed on something that was decidedly not the power cord he was looking for. Gansey grabbed it and pulled it up where he could see it. It was another Epipen.

Gansey lit up his phone, illuminating the object in front of him. It _was_ an Epipen, or a very good copy, because when Gansey truly looked, he could see the slight differences. The one he held now was slightly thinner—something he was only aware of because of how many time he had rolled his own between his fingers, the motion automatic now. And the normally clear liquid inside had a slight silvery tint to it.

_Ronan._ It had to be, there was no other explanation.

Gansey resisted the urge to get up and check the one in the bathroom, logic telling him it would be the same. Instead, he settled down into his pillow, preparing for a long night fighting for sleep.

He stretched his arm under his pillow to get comfortable and found yet another Epipen. Gansey couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, and he felt the tension and unease of the day melt from his form.

Maybe there was no way to keep wasps out of Monmouth, but Gansey knew Ronan would always be there to take care of what he couldn’t.

 

3.

“ _Ronan,_ ” Gansey said in the sternest voice he could manage, hoping it sounded less choked than he felt.

Normally, that would put a halt to anything Ronan was doing, but he was in fine form after their run in with Declan, and Gansey wasn’t sure he could stop him from doing something stupid this time.

Ronan, who was currently standing in front of him, chest heaving from his earlier outburst. Gansey would pretend until the day he died that Ronan’s words hadn’t hurt, but he was lying to himself and he knew it.

_“Leave me alone, Gansey!”_

_“I can fucking handle this on my own!”_

_“I didn’t ask for your help in the first place! I don’t want your help, I don’t need your help, and I don’t need you!”_

Gansey knew Ronan wasn’t mad at him, not really. Or hopefully not, anyways. Declan had found them leaving Nino’s after their lunch, and had started an argument with Ronan. Declan knew how badly Ronan just wanted to go back to the Barns, and he seemed fond of throwing the reminder that he legally wasn’t allowed back at Ronan’s face.

He had tried his best to break it up then, desperate to leave before things got too bad. But then Declan had mentioned Ronan’s failures at Aglionby, and Gansey knew neither of the Lynch brothers were going to leave unscathed.

After punches had been thrown and words had been spat, Declan had took off in his shiny Volvo, and in a flurry of dust and gravel, Gansey was left alone with Ronan and the bruise blossoming over his left eye from where he made the mistake of trying to hold his friend back mid swing.

“Ronan—” Gansey tried again.

“Don’t,” the taller boy bit out sharply. “Just… don’t.”

Ronan wouldn’t look at him, and Gansey wasn’t sure if it was because of his eye, or because Ronan hated him. He ignored the squirming in his stomach that second thought caused.

He pressed his thumb to his lower lip, blinking back tears from his rapidly swelling eye. It was probably for the best that Ronan had stopped him, because Gansey didn’t really know what he had been planning to say.

For the first time he could remember, Gansey had no idea what to say to Ronan Lynch. There were plenty of things he probably should say, but the words died on his tongue before he could even finish thinking them.

“Just go home, Gansey,” Ronan said. His eyes were still angry, and Gansey could practically feel the tension coiled tight under his skin.

All Gansey knew was that Ronan shouldn’t be left alone, and that trumped anything else he was feeling. “Let’s go,” he said, fumbling for the Camaro’s keys. He unlocked the car and made to get inside, but paused when he saw that Ronan hadn’t moved.

“Here,” Ronan said as something flew across the space and hit Gansey in the chest.

He caught it reflexively and held it out where he could see it. It was a key, one Gansey was sure would fit into the lock at Monmouth. When the boys had gotten back last night, Gansey had realized he couldn’t find his key. After multiple incessant jabs from Ronan about being forgetful, tearing apart Monmouth, and digging through the Pig, he and Ronan had planned to go and make a replacement copy after lunch.

“When did you go get this made?” Gansey was pretty sure Ronan hadn’t been gone long enough at any point in the day to go get a key made.

“I didn’t,” Ronan said flatly, as he spun on his heels and stalked away.

Gansey stood rooted to the spot, not sure if he was more dazed by the fact that his new key was a shiny, iridescent color, or the fact that Ronan had just walked away from him.

 

4.

Gansey stood staring down as his desk, lips pursed. In front of him was his mint plant, looking awfully brown and generally inedible.

As he gently placed it into the trash can, he heard a snort from behind him. He sighed and turned around to see Ronan leaning against his door frame, arms crossed.

“How many has that been now?”

Gansey sighed. “There’s a slight possibility that an old factory isn’t a great place to grow plants.”

Ronan just raised an eyebrow. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Gansey rolled his eyes and picked up a browned leaf still sitting on his desk. He loved the mint; there was something about the taste that was soothing in a way he couldn’t quite explain, and it gave him something to do. But, as Ronan had so eloquently pointed out, Gansey had killed a few of the plants now, and he really did feel bad about it. Maybe it was time to give up the habit.

He drummed his fingers against the top of his desk, the only outward sign of irritation he would let himself show.

“Gansey?”

He turned to see Ronan staring at him, looking like he had probably tried to get his attention more than once. He offered a sheepish half-smile in return.

“Sorry. What is it?”

Ronan frowned, his earlier amusement at Gansey’s inability to keep a plant alive gone.

“Don’t move,” he said, before disappearing back into his room.

Gansey blinked in confusion, but stayed in place next to his desk, absentmindedly wiping another dead mint leaf into the trash. He could hear Ronan throwing things around and wondered what exactly he was up to, and if he needed help. But Ronan had said to stay, so he stayed.

Through some unspoken agreement, Ronan’s room was off limits. Gansey had only been in there a handful of times, even though they had been living together for a while now. Some days it felt like years, and some days it felt like no time at all, but that didn’t change the fact that Ronan’s room was not somewhere Gansey was readily welcome. And he would never begrudge Ronan his privacy, especially now that he knew Ronan’s secret and why he preferred to sleep behind a tightly closed door, when he slept at all.  

Eventually the noises from Ronan’s room stopped, and his head appeared around the edge of the door. He looked slightly surprised to see that Gansey hadn’t actually moved, and that seemed to strengthen his resolve. Because for some reason, Ronan looked uneasy.

“Alright. Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” Ronan said.

Gansey lifted an eyebrow long enough that Ronan could sense his curiosity and slight skepticism before closing his eyes and holding out his hands as instructed. He heard Ronan cross the room to stand in front of him, and then he felt something cool and heavy in his hands.

“Can I open my eyes now?” He asked.

“No.”

Confused, Gansey asked, “Why not?”

Ronan snorted. “Because you look like an idiot standing there.”

Gansey opened both eyes to glare in Ronan’s direction, receiving a shit eating grin in return. Then his gaze traveled down to the object in his hands.

“Oh,” he said softly. “Is this—”

“Yeah,” Ronan nodded, and then grimaced. “It even tastes the same. I tried one off yours before it, you know, died,” he waved his hand around vaguely. “They both taste like fucking leaves man, but it’s the same as far as I could tell. And I didn’t die, so it’s probably not toxic or anything.”

In his hands, Gansey was holding a small potted mint plant. The leaves were a soft green color, laced with the slight iridescent shimmer that Gansey had come to identify in some of Ronan’s dream objects. Most of them were exact copies, forgeries that would never be spotted under even the most intense scrutiny. But sometimes, like the liquid in the Epipens and his new house key, there was an otherworldly, opalescent sheen to them.

Gansey was transfixed, but a part of his brain was already calculating how to keep Ronan’s gift alive when he had already so clearly failed at the art of indoor plant keeping.

“Oh,” Ronan added as an afterthought, “That thing has been in my closet for… a month now? So, I guess it probably can’t die. Since there is no light in there and I never really bothered to water it.”   

“ _Ronan,_ ” Gansey scolded, but secretly, he had to admit he was relieved to hear he wouldn’t have to worry about killing this plant.

Ronan just shrugged, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Thank you,” Gansey added, sincerely. He watched as Ronan’s eyes lit up and his posture relaxed slightly. He picked off one of the smaller leaves and placed it on his tongue, letting out a startled laugh. “You were right, it tastes exactly the same, I wouldn’t have noticed any difference.”

“I told you,” Ronan said, but he was smiling. Gansey plucked off another leaf and held it out to Ronan, who shook his head violently. “No way, one was enough. You can keep your leaves.”

Gansey shrugged and stuck that one in his mouth too. No sense in wasting it. He placed the new plant on his desk carefully, fingers trailing over the uneven edges of the leaves.

“Thank you, Ronan,” Gansey said again.

The taller boy shrugged as if it was no big deal, but Gansey could see he was pleased. “As long as you don’t name it Glendower or some shit.”

Gansey blinked once, and then a brilliant smile split across his face. “Well, I wouldn’t dream of naming it something as ridiculous as Chainsaw.”

 

5.

They stood in familiar, familiar Cabeswater, surrounded by the muted light of the sun filtering through the canopy layer. All around them, the trees seemed to be whispering, despite the lack of wind.

The four of them, Gansey in the lead, with Blue, Ronan, and Adam behind him, walked through the forest in relative silence, their muffled footsteps on the damp leaves the only real sound. Even though they had been through Cabeswater multiple times now, enough that this felt almost routine, Gansey couldn’t help but marvel at everything they came across. The magic of this place was never lost on him.

Behind him, he heard Blue giggle as Ronan made finger guns, pointing off into the distance. Each time he performed the exaggerated gesture, a small fish appeared out of thin air and sped away from him, like tiny, colorful bullets. Gansey couldn’t help his grin, or the laugh that followed. The fish were perfect mirrors to the ones he summoned, although where Gansey’s were golden, Ronan’s shimmered in a pearlescent rainbow.

He caught Ronan’s eye, and a grin to match Gansey’s own split Ronan’s face. Gansey’s hand went to his pocket, reaching for—

He paused, and his face fell. It had been a while since Gansey had reached for the journal that he had lost. The journal where he had spent hours upon hours collecting information on Glendower, and painstakingly writing out his theories amongst spontaneous doodles. The journal that contained more of Gansey than Gansey did. The journal that Whelk had stolen from him. Although, Gansey supposed, if it came down to his journal or his life, he should be grateful for what _had_ been stolen, even if the journal and his life and felt one and the same for a long while.   

Ronan’s eyes were still on him, and although his grin was still in place, Gansey could see the concern there. He gave a slight shrug and a smile that he hoped was reassuring, knowing Ronan would see right through it but willing him not to say anything.

Thankfully, he didn’t, and the gang kept walking.

Although the rest of their walk through Cabeswater was pleasant, they didn’t find any clues as to where the king they so stubbornly sought was located, and returned home empty handed.

Gansey collapsed on his bed as soon as he and Ronan returned to Monmouth after dropping off Blue and Adam. Time didn’t seem to matter in Cabeswater, but Gansey could tell from his aching feet that they had walked for a long time.

Ronan was sitting backwards on Gansey’s desk chair, watching him. His lips twitched up in a slight smirk. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on wearing those ridiculous boat shoes everywhere... “

At that, Gansey lifted his head off of the bed. “They are not ridiculous,” he said, knowing full well that his argument was flimsy at best, and made him sound like a petulant child at worst.

“Ha,” Ronan said, eyes alight with mischief, “that’s the funniest joke you’ve ever told.”

Gansey rolled his eyes and then let his head flop back down against the bed. “They probably aren’t the most practical thing to be hiking through a magical forest in, but then again, it’s a magical forest. What is practicality anyways?”

Ronan snorted at that, and it sounded like he was surprised. “Hold on,” he said, getting up out of the chair.

“Trust me, I have no plans of moving any time soon,” Gansey called, hearing Ronan’s footsteps retreating towards his room.

He heard Ronan’s footsteps returning and then felt a slight whoosh of air and a thunk on the mattress as something narrowly missed hitting him in the face.

“Jesus, Ronan,” he yelped, sitting up. He took in Ronan’s shit-eating grin first, and the object next to him on the bed second.

Just like with the fish, and nearly everything else Ronan had dreamed for him, the journal was a deep brown leather color, shimmering with a faint iridescence. He looked up at Ronan, who was staring back at him expectantly.

“I figured if I threw it, it might start to look as battered as your old one,” he offered as an explanation.   

Gansey laughed, and it was a replica of his laughter from Cabeswater that morning. A laughter that could only be the result of some unexpected magic.

He picked up the journal, which was exactly the same size as his old one. It was thinner—it hadn’t been filled with newspaper clippings or journal articles yet—but other than that, it was nearly identical.   

When he flipped it open, his breath caught in his throat. On the front page, drawn in black ink, was an image of Gansey, drawn as a king.

“Did you draw this?” He asked Ronan, who flushed at the sight of it, and made to swipe the journal from his hands. “I don’t think so, I’m keeping this.”

Ronan scowled. “I can’t draw, it wasn’t me.”

Gansey beamed at him. “Maybe not in real life, but _you_ dreamt this journal, which means that _your_ mind put this there.”

Ronan looked as if he was deciding whether to let the floor eat him, but in the end, Gansey’s joy was infectious, and his scowl lessened. Maybe it wasn’t a full smile, but Gansey would take what he could get.

He turned his attention back to the drawing, his eyes tracing the precise ink lines. Once he was sure he had it committed to memory, he flipped through the rest of the pages. Most of them were blank, but occasionally there was tidbit or piece of information about Glendower or Cabeswater.

“Ronan, this is magnificent. Thank you,” Gansey said earnestly.

“You’re welcome,” Ronan said. More quietly, he added, “Anything for you.”

 

+1

“Let’s go.” _Please._

The plea remained unspoken, but Gansey heard it all the same. It was unnecessary; as soon as Ronan had appeared in the doorway, still dressed, Gansey knew they were going somewhere. Sleep was eluding him as well, so he welcomed the idea of a distraction.

He stood, stretching his arms above his head, and then grabbed his keys, the iridescent one catching what little light filtered through the many windows.

“Where to?” He asked as Ronan crossed the room.

“I don’t care,” came the response as Ronan was already halfway out the door. Gansey rolled his eyes, but hurried after Ronan out to the Camaro.

It was still early in the night, for them at least, but not much was available past 9 pm in sleepy little Henrietta. As a result, the Pig pulled into the parking lot of Dollar City, the bright fluorescent lights indicating that it was still open.

Gansey lifted an eyebrow at Ronan, who just shrugged and flung open the door. He turned the car off and followed, through the automatic doors and into the blissfully cool store. Despite the sun having been down for hours, it was still uncomfortably hot and sticky outside.

Neither of the boys really had a purpose in mind other than getting out of Monmouth, so they strolled leisurely up and down the aisles, Ronan picking up random objects to carry around for a while only to return them to a completely different shelf, forcing Gansey to backtrack and replace them.

After returning the two toothbrushes that Ronan had swiped, Gansey rounded to corner to the very back of the store where the other boy was waiting for him.

“Bored?” Gansey asked.

“We’re in a _Dollar City_ ,” Ronan said, “of course I’m bored.”

Gansey chuckled. “Alright, I’ll give you that one. He picked up a candle with a pearly sheen. “This looks like the low budget version of something you dreamed,” he commented.

Ronan took the candle from him, and for a moment, Gansey was worried he was going to smash it on the floor. But instead, he just put it on the shelf above where Gansey had pulled it from.  

“How did you know?” Gansey asked suddenly, a small frown on his face.

“Well whatever I knew, it was because I’m a genius, although I have no clue what you’re referring to now.”

Gansey laughed. “But how did you know? Ronan, everything that you’ve dreamed for me, you gave to me the day I needed it. You didn’t sleep before it.”

Ronan smiled, finally understanding the question that had been bothering Gansey for so long, and Gansey couldn’t tell if it was sheepish, or pleased. Maybe both. “I’ve dreamed a lot of things for you, Gansey.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “You have?” Now, the look on Ronan’s face was _definitely_ embarrassed, but Gansey didn’t let up. “Like what? What else?”

Ronan turned to start walking away, but Gansey grabbed for his wrist. Ronan stopped instantly.

“I don’t know, Gansey, stuff,” Ronan said, waving a hand through the air.

But Gansey wasn’t done yet. “Like…?”

Ronan turned back around to face him. “Like a miniature model of Henrietta, and an unfrozen frozen pizza, a DVD case for one of those boring documentaries you like so much, a carton of orange juice, probably, a new pillow—just stuff.”

Gansey was sure he was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn’t help it. Something about Ronan’s confession, in this place… _Ronan_ dreaming all of those things for _him_ … Gansey felt like he was floating.

“There is one thing I have for you that I didn’t dream,” Ronan said cautiously.

Gansey felt his curiosity piqued. “What’s that?”

Ronan stepped closer, his face unreadable. “Do you really want to know?”

His eyes were burning into Gansey’s, and he was sure he was going to catch on fire under the intensity of Ronan’s gaze. He licked his lips. “Yes.”

A small smile hovered on Ronan’s face for just a moment, before he leaned in, his mouth slotting perfectly against Gansey’s.

Suddenly, everything was too much and not enough. Ronan’s lips were against his, and Ronan’s hands were in his hair and on his waist, and his back was up against the cold, metal shelf. It was overwhelming; it was perfect; it left him needing more.

Gansey didn’t have much rational thought left as Ronan kissed him hungrily, but the thought crossed his mind that Henrietta could burn to the ground around them and he wouldn’t be able to care. He wasn’t sure he would be able to think about anything again.

Gansey pressed backwards, further into the shelf, until the sound of shattering glass jolted him and Ronan both back to the real world. The candle that Ronan had placed carelessly on the top shelf had fallen to the floor, breaking into pieces.

“What the hell?” Came a gruff voice from the front of the store.

Ronan was still leaning into Gansey, his arms on the shelf to hold himself up. Grinning, he pulled back from Gansey a fraction. “Sorry, we’ll pay for that,” he called up to the voice.

They heard indistinct muttering in return, but were unable to make anything out over the sound of their heavy breathing.  

“I think,” Gansey said, hoping he didn’t look as disheveled as he felt, “that might be our cue to leave.”

The grin still fixed on Ronan’s face indicated that Gansey’s hopes were in vain. “I think you’re right,” he replied.

Gansey sucked in another breath. He would admit that he had thought of kissing Ronan before, multiple times. But he had never thought their first kiss would be in Dollar City. He laughed, a breathless sound. “Go pay for that,” he gestured to the broken candle on the ground, “and then we can go see what else you never dreamed for me.”

The gleam in Ronan’s eyes made Gansey’s heart stop, and right before he leaned in to try and kiss him again, the taller boy had vanished. Gansey took a moment to collect himself before walking to the front of the store, doing his best to look more put together than he felt.

Once, he had asked Ronan to dream him the world. But right now, Gansey was infinitely more interested in what else Ronan could offer.   

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, and thank you for reading this! You can find me on tumblr @glendwr


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